Highlander's Fate: A Medieval Scottish Historical Highland Romance Book

by Alisa Adams

  "Have you decided on a plan yet?" Moira asked anxiously. "You were such a long time in there."

  "We did," Iain said. "But we are keeping it very secret for everyone's safety."

  "Will it be dangerous?" Moira’s eyes were wide and scared.

  "We hope not, my Lady," Gregor said soothingly. "But we think that most of the danger will be to them. It really is time to rid this whole area of these monsters once and for all."

  "I agree," Moira said, shuddering. "What those poor people have to go through! It is all very well for us, tucked away behind our walls and turrets, but these farmers have only thatch and wood to protect them."

  To distract her, Iain told her of Alexa's performance in the Great Hall with the lairds.

  "You should have seen her, Moira!" He laughed. "She had those stuffy old men eating out of her hands! And now we have hope."

  He looked around them.

  "A toast," he added, standing up. "Down with the Sutherlands!"

  They drank their wine and then Gregor announced his intention to go. They said their farewells and Alexa led Gregor out to the main gate.

  "You are magnificent," he said fervently. "And I mean that. I have never seen a woman do what you did, and now we can go forward with confidence."

  Alexa laughed.

  "We are not even started yet," she pointed out. "The whole enterprise may yet fail!"

  He looked down at her almost sky blue eyes, wishing he could kiss her then regretfully remembering that he belonged to someone else. Regret? Why was he feeling regretful? Was it because Alexa Montgomery had a brain in a thousand, the courage of a lion, and the fighting skills of a knight? He knew he had never met anyone quite like her.

  "But it won't," he said with confidence. "I just know. In a few weeks, they will be out of our lives forever, and we will be free."

  "I hope so. Good night, sir."

  "Call me Gregor." He smiled.

  She shook her head. "No. You are the son of a laird. I will never be more than a sister-in-law. Goodnight, sir."

  Alexa watched him as he rode away, wishing she was going with him. And Gregor knew she was watching him, and wished the same thing.

  Mairi felt like killing herself. It would be all too easy to step off the walls of the fortress and break her body on the stones below, but she feared for her mother, brothers, and sisters who would be left behind at the mercy of her father and his cruel leather belt. But she liked looking out since it gave her a sense of freedom.

  Except for her nightly forays, which no one knew about – or so she hoped – she had never been out of the stronghold. The lands around her were all shades of green and brown that flowed over valleys and hills, here and there cut by the broken blue line of a stream. There were little patches of woodland too, looking like embroidered dots on a piece of fabric.

  Homesteads were scattered around haphazardly with yellow patches of ripening grain around them, and as they all disappeared into the distance, the hills and valleys turned blue then melted into the haze of the sky.

  What must it be like over there? she wondered and sighed.

  She looked for one last time at the wood that was closest to the fortress before turning inside to help her mother with the cooking, and then she saw the movement. She looked around her to see if anyone was watching before studying the trees closely.

  There was a man there, a man with dark hair that reached to his shoulders. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. She looked around again, but still, no one was watching. Very cautiously she waved, and just as cautiously he waved back. She laughed softly then he blew her a kiss. Hesitantly, she blew one back. Then he bowed and disappeared.

  She wondered about him all evening, long before crawling into bed and feigning sleep. There were no raids planned for that night, but her father and brothers were all drunk and sleeping soundly, so she was able to go out undisturbed into the light of a half-moon.

  She descended into the tunnel and moved the hatch backward, went down the wooden ladders and stepped onto the earthen floor. She had no lamp, and the tunnel was pitch-black, but she had walked it so many times that she knew every inch of it.

  She felt along the walls and counted her footsteps, and soon she reached another wooden ladder. She climbed the rungs and moved the entrance away, went out and fitted it back carefully so that it was absolutely invisible. In her black cloak with her hood drawn up, Mairi was almost invisible too.

  She had a place where she usually lay down which was out of sight of the stronghold, but tonight she wanted to look at the spot where the stranger had been, and it was quite far away.

  The long twilight of the summer night was almost over, but there was still enough light to see by as she moved like a shadow into the trees. She froze as she heard a rustle in the undergrowth, then she squealed and turned to run, thinking she had been discovered by one of her family.

  "Shhh…" Gregor whispered, "I'm not going to hurt you. I was here earlier today, remember?"

  Mairi looked at his shadowed face, but though she could see very little of him, her instincts told her that she had nothing to fear, so she decided to listen to him.

  "I am here to help you," he whispered. "But if you do not want my help just say so. My name is Greg. What is yours?"

  "Mairi."

  "Mairi Sutherland, is that right?"

  She hung her head.

  "Aye, sir," she whispered, then put her hands over her face. "Please, believe me, sir, that I had naethin' tae dae wi' all the wicked things my faither's done."

  Gregor felt a shaft of pity pierce his heart. He knew his next words would hurt her.

  "How do I know you are telling the truth? You may be lying to me."

  He did not get the reaction he had expected.

  Mairi sighed.

  "Aye, sir," she answered. "An' I wouldnae blame ye for thinkin' so. So dae whit ye will wi' me. I willnae put up a fight. Kill me if ye've a mind, for ye'd be daein' me a favor."

  "You don't mean that," Gregor said, shocked. "Surely you don't mean that!"

  "Aye, Jack," she replied. "Aye, I dae. I wid hae done it myself if it hadnae been for my wee brothers an' sisters."

  Then she burst into tears.

  Gregor looked at her, horrified. Twilight was giving way to moonlight now, and he could see the tears streaking down her face. He put an arm around her shoulder, but she pushed him forcefully away, scrambling backward through the undergrowth.

  "I'm not going to hurt you," Gregor said, his tone urgent. "All I want you to do is listen to me. Please." He backed a little further away from her and sat with his legs crossed. "I swear on the blood of Christ that I will not harm you."

  She stopped moving and sat tense but still.

  "I want to stop your father from doing all the wicked things he does," Gregor said. "But I need your help, Mairi. Do you come out here every night?"

  "No' every night," she answered. "But as often as I can, aye."

  "Your father and brothers may be hurt," he warned.

  He was quite unprepared for what came next.

  "Kill them. Kill them all!" She hissed out. "An' kill the venomous scum that helps them! Do I mind if ye hurt them? I will mind if ye don't!"

  Gregor reeled. He had never heard so much sheer hatred in anyone's voice before, and it chilled him to the bone.

  "I am not in the business of killing for the sake of it," he said gently. "Your father must be—"

  "He is the devil!" she spat. "He has a black soul."

  "Calm down," Gregor said softly. "Now, I am going to make an offer to you. You can refuse if you want, but I think if you say yes you can get out of here. Your father has a price on his head, so even if he leaves here alive, he will be running for the rest of his life. But we intend to see justice done for all the families he has hurt."

  "Who is 'we', Greg?" Mairi asked carefully. "Ye an’ who else?"

  "Every laird in this area, almost all the way to Ullapool."

  "But whit can I dae?" She s
hrugged. "I am only a wee lassie."

  "A wee lassie with ears. And you can use them for our benefit. We need to know where and when raids are being planned, and we need to find the entrance to your stronghold."

  "That is very secret, Greg!" She laughed. "It is sometimes hard even for us tae find!"

  Gregor thought for a moment. They had only just met, and she would definitely not trust him with the secret of the tunnel yet, so he thought he should wait and build up her trust in him.

  "Do you come here every night?" he asked.

  "No' here, usually a bit farther away when the weather is fine," she replied, then her voice became bitter. "If I didnae I wid go mad. When the time is right, and the wee ones are a bit bigger, we will all get oot taegether."

  "When can you meet me again, Mairi?"

  "The morrow, if the weather's fine. But jist ye, mind. If ye send onybody else, I willnae come. Promise me."

  "I promise, Mairi," he said softly. "And if I could, I would come and help you take care of all of them. When will you show me the entrance to the tunnel?"

  "If the weather is good," she said with caution, "next week when the moon is full."

  "I will be back before then," he told her, standing up. "Why can't you show me now?"

  "Light's no' good enough. An' I dinnae hae a lantern. It's too far for the hoose tae be seen, that's all I'll tell ye."

  "Take care, Mairi," he said anxiously as she walked away.

  "An' you, Greg."

  Then she melted into the darkness.

  Gregor stood for a long while looking at the space where she had been. She reminded him of a smoldering coal, waiting to burst into flames at any moment.

  * * *

  Mairi was consumed by a mixture of emotions as she walked back through the dark tunnel. She was dreading going back into the stronghold, but excited and hopeful for the first time in ages. But behind everything else was the bitter black bile of hatred, and she was counting the seconds till her revenge.

  8

  Hector Sutherland

  No one liked him. The only emotions Hector Sutherland engendered in those around him and in everyone else, were hatred and fear. He knew this, and it gave him a perverse pleasure and a great feeling of power. Even those in his inner circle, his three oldest sons, and a few close confidants were wary of him, especially during his drunken rages.

  He was paranoid about being murdered, and would always have one of his own children taste his food before he ate it, one of the reasons they were terrified of him.

  He was driven by anger – anger at God, anger at his fellow man, and even anger at his own children. The only one he could stand the sight of was Mairi, and that was because she looked like him and could read and amuse him. Mairi had taught herself to read from a holy book, and he had taught her how to count so that she could add up the plunder from each raid.

  He had an idea of where his anger came from. Back in his furthest memories, he could feel the pain of a belt across his backside, and the harsh shouting of curses in his ears. His father had been a brutal man. Then there was the claustrophobic darkness of a locked cupboard from which he feared he would never escape.

  That had been the torture he had dreaded most. He never did find out exactly why he was being punished, but by and by the terror turned into anger and made him the most feared man in the region of Gairloch.

  And yet he was handsome, with thick, graying black hair and dark brown eyes, smooth skin and a tall, athletic build. But his mouth was thin and cruel, and his hands with their long clutching fingers were never still.

  They were always twisting pieces of string, breaking twigs or pricking themselves on pieces of tree bark or a knife’s point. He had patterns of cuts and blue bruises on the backs of his hands from these injuries, but no one knew why he did it and they were too afraid to ask.

  The truth was that Hector Sutherland hated himself. He hated the black rages that compelled him to do unspeakable things to himself and others.

  He hated the compulsion he sometimes felt to fling himself off the fortress walls and end his miserable life, for it was miserable. But he was too much of a coward to do it, and he hated himself for that too. So he cut himself constantly and sometimes even burnt his palm over the flame of a candle, relishing the pain that distracted him for a while.

  He sought oblivion in alcohol, and sometimes even in milk of the poppy, which he had terrified the apothecary into giving him as often as he could. He kept this in a place that was so secret that no one had ever been able to find it in case they killed him with it. This puzzled him since he did not want to be murdered, and yet he could contemplate death by his own hands. The answer was that he wanted to die on his own terms at the time of his choosing, and that time had not yet come.

  Now he took his sharp eating knife from his pocket and began to stab his fingers with it. The relief was enormous and immediate, like a drug coursing through his veins. No spirit or opiate could match it. Blood welled up on the backs of his hands, and he knew he would have to bandage the cuts later, but for now, the euphoria was enough. He did not stop till the blood was dripping onto the table to join the stains that were already there.

  "How did the meeting go the other night?" Lorraine asked Alexa. "Did Graham tell you?"

  Alexa had thought it best not to tell Lorraine that she had actually been there. Lorraine was desperately curious to know but did not want to betray her eagerness. The two were on horses, trotting along the beach in a fine mist that would soon burn off and leave a cool but pleasant day behind it.

  They made sure to enjoy these days, for they were few and far between in the Highlands. Alexa raised her face to the sky before she answered, thinking of a suitable reply, then she gave a cynical little laugh.

  "Yes, Lorraine." She smiled at her friend. "He gave me one of those 'don't worry your little head about it, sweetheart' smiles and told me it was men's business. I am not allowed to know."

  Lorraine sighed.

  "I got much the same response from Gregor," she said sadly. "Honestly, I think they have a notion that we have sawdust between our ears and can only think about dresses, ceilidhs and who is marrying who! Oh, and who is with child! We really are only of use to them when they want heirs – and they must be male ones! One day the world will be full of boys and men, and there will be no wombs for the next generation!"

  Alexa burst out laughing.

  "Lorraine, my dear! Calm down. You'll burst a blood vessel."

  Lorraine laughed sheepishly.

  "You're right, Alexa." She sighed. "But I have been feeling more and more as if he thinks I am stupid and empty-headed."

  Alexa felt a stab of guilt. She had been feeling exactly the same thing.

  "Should you not talk to him?" she asked. "He may not be thinking that at all."

  Lorraine nodded.

  "Yes, mayhap you are right, Alexa."

  "I hope so." Alexa smiled at her friend. She hated telling lies, but she simply could not let her become involved with this. For one thing, a slip of the tongue could be very dangerous, and for another, she would try to stop Gregor, and he was pivotal to the whole scheme.

  "Now," she said mischievously. "Race you to the rocks!"

  Lorraine laughed. Alexa was by far and away the best friend she had, but she also had the best horse!

  Gregor had argued that he should deal with Mairi alone since he had earned a little of her trust. He was discussing the matter with Iain.

  "We did not understand how afraid she would be," he said, worried. "She is terrified of her father."

  "I worry about Alexa too," Iain said grimly. "It is so dangerous. Can you not forbid her from going?"

  "Don't worry – I have." Gregor smiled. "So you can tell Moira that her little sister is safe, or as safe as she can be these days. She was very angry, but she could see that I was right. She weighs no more than a sack of corn, for goodness' sake!"

  "But she can wield a sword as well as any man twice her size!" Iain remi
nded him. "Her strength is not in her arms, but in her mind. She is fearsomely intelligent, a good tactician and her ideas are completely original. She should have been a man!"

  "I am glad she is not!" Gregor said before he could stop himself.

  Iain looked at him, appalled.

  "Gregor – you are betrothed to Lorraine!"

  "And cannot a man admire a pretty woman?" Gregor laughed. "Even if he is betrothed – or even married? You take life too seriously, my friend!"

  Iain smiled.

  "Of course," he replied. "It is as natural as the sunrise. And life would be very dull in a world without women. They drive us mad – but we like it that way!"

  They laughed, and Gregor rose to put on his cloak.

  "Into the lion's den!" he said, taking a deep breath.

  "Take care, Gregor," Iain said softly.

  "I will – I will be back before morning with any news."

  * * *

  Alexa, waiting just behind the door, had heard every word. It was true that Gregor had forbidden her from going to join the militia, as they had called the group of defenders, but she had no intention of obeying the order.

  She was determined to be there with her claymore and crossbow, and God help anyone who got in her way! Now, as the door opened, she scampered away before the men could see her and dived into her bedroom. She looked in the mirror. It might be time for a second haircut!

  Nanny Joan had long since hidden her scissors away, so Alexa took her dagger out of its sheath, but just as she was about to hack at her blonde curls, it was snatched out of her hands. Alexa turned around furiously to see the equally furious face of Nanny Joan behind her.

  "Alexa! Whit on earth are ye daein, lassie? Yer beautiful hair!"

  "It gets in my way!" Alexa said mutinously, reaching for the dagger, but Nanny Joan held it out of her way. "And I am not a little girl anymore!"

  Nanny Joan's face looked as though someone had slapped it. She gave Alexa back the dagger, handle first, then curtsied.